Connections
by DesertVixen
Summary: Next one in line after "Bringing Down The Barriers". A little peek at how life in River Heights is shaping up after the weekend family trip.
1. Chapter 1

Connections (Part One)

By: DesertVixen NOTE: Follows "Bringing Down the Barriers" by about 2-3 weeks. As noted in that story, 3 years have passed since the SuperMystery timeframe.

Thanks, of course, to my fabulous beta AmyKay, who keeps me from inflicting the same word on you three times in a paragraph!

DISCLAIMER: I obviously do not own the characters, because if I did, we'd have ditched Ned a long time ago. My books all say Archway or Grosset and Dunlap, and of course we can't forget the Stratemeyer Syndicate. I'm just borrowing them for awhile to have fun.

---- ---- ----

Spending the summer in River Heights was pretty sweet, Nancy decided as she hit the lock button on her key chain, and headed towards the brand-new restaurant. Granted, she was kept busy inside doing basic research for her father's law office, but some of it was quite fascinating. It had its perks, and today those perks included a long lunch before spending the afternoon acting as a courier for her father. Nancy got along great with his office administrator Eleanor, who had worked for him since Nancy was in middle school, and the others in the office weren't bad either – two associates and a law student who didn't mind Nancy picking his brain about law school. She hadn't absolutely decided on it yet, but she was definitely thinking about it hard.

Right now, though, she let go of thoughts of work, and prepared herself for lunch with her two best friends. The three of them had all been busy, but Nancy knew she had a bombshell to drop on them. She was also looking forward to catching up on what they were up to. She had known Bess Marvin and George Fayne since the three of them were in kindergarten, and there were only a few people she felt a closer bond with.

The two cousins were great friends with each other, despite being very different from each other. Bess was the romantic, the one who was more into shopping and guys than any other activity. George was the athlete, the one who was happiest in shorts and a tank top, riding a bike or running a race. Nancy couldn't imagine being without either one of them.

George was waiting for her outside the restaurant, looking cool and comfortable in a cherry-red t-shirt and denim skirt, practical sandals on her feet. Her short dark hair fell in waves just above her shoulders, sunglasses perched on top of her head.

"Nancy!" George sprang forward, grabbed her up in a hug that Nancy eagerly returned. "It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too," Nancy said. "Nice outfit."

"Thanks. I know you're going to laugh, but I am so sick of wearing nothing but camp shorts and the camp shirt." George was not known for her interest in fashion, at least in comparison with her cousin. "Yours looks pretty good, too."

Nancy looked down at the short dark blue skirt, paired with a fitted turquoise short-sleeved blouse. "Well, you know, working for the law firm, I have to look professional. I left the jacket in the car, though."

They walked inside. George had picked the place after eating at one of the chain's restaurants in Chicago. She had described it to Nancy as perfect for the three of them, and Nancy had to agree she was right. Sweet Tomatoes had a salad bar to die for, not to mention soups and pasta. Bess, despite her constant claims of dieting, would be happy with the muffins and brownies at the bakery bar.

When they reached the end of the line and paid, Nancy scanned the restaurant, looking for Bess. She had called her cell phone, and Bess had said she was already inside, holding down a table.

George turned as she heard Bess call her name, then stopped and stared. "Bess!" She tugged on Nancy's arm. "Nan, check that out."

Nancy turned and saw a young woman with pale blonde hair cut in a sleek, face-framing, short style, standing at the table. She had to look for another moment before she realized that it was Bess Marvin.

"What do you think?" Bess asked as they set their trays on the table and sat down. She turned her head right and left. Where once her long blonde hair had brushed the middle of her back, now it barely covered the back of her neck.

"I think it looks great," Nancy said after a moment of studying her. "It makes your eyes really stand out." Bess's cornflower blue eyes had always been one of her best features, but now they dominated her face.

"It just might take some getting used to," George said slowly. "What did Aunt Anna say?"

"Mom went with me. I wanted someone along to make sure I didn't chicken out after deciding on it," Bess answered as she picked up her drink. "You wouldn't believe how much time I save, now that I don't have to figure out what to do with my hair."

George laughed. "I could, actually. So, do you actually save time or just spend more time doing your makeup now?" she teased.

Bess stuck out her tongue.

Nancy giggled. Some things never changed, and the cousins' friendly bickering was one of them.

But some things did change. Finding time to spend with each other was becoming more difficult, when they had to factor work, study, and guys in. Nancy found herself missing the days when they had walked home from school together, or spent entire weekends just lazing around one of their houses.

Now, George was working for a youth offenders program that emphasized outdoors activities, after two summers of working at a traditional youth camp. It fit well with her studies at the university in criminal justice. The only drawback was that the camp was an hour and a half away.

Bess found herself working a lot of Saturdays, especially with the summer wedding season. She had surprised everyone who knew her by thriving on working sixty-hour weeks, although Bess laughed it off as getting paid to go to parties. It sounded a little frivolous, but in addition to her skill for coordinating outfits and parties, Bess had a knack for putting people at ease. It was an invaluable talent for a wedding coordinator.

Nancy had her own job eating into her free time, not to mention the one summer class she was doing online. She was also looking at law schools and the requirements, and finding some time to get some exercise. She had become used to running and working out with her roommate, Reese, and she didn't want to fall behind.

So when they did get together lately, it was always time to play catch-up on all the important things – work, their dating lives, and plans. They had been chatting for a few minutes when the subject turned to Nancy's weekend trip.

"So, Nancy, how was your vacation?" Bess asked.

"Pretty good, actually. Dad brought his girlfriend along to introduce to everyone."

"Everyone?" George said curiously.

"The Hardy family. My Aunt Eloise. It was a pretty cozy weekend."

"How's Joe doing?" Bess had something of a soft spot for the younger Hardy brother. They were two of a kind – blonde and charming, solidly loyal and quick-thinking, good at improvisation and distraction. The two of them had never really seriously hooked up, but they had definitely flirted with the idea.

"Good. Single again, working on a nice tan."

"How's Frank doing?" George asked after a moment.

"Good." Nancy leaned back in her chair, deciding to drop her bombshell. "Working on his tan, but not single," she replied with a smile.

There was a moment of perfect silence at their table. Bess was frozen in place, a statue of a young woman preparing to drink her diet soda. George stared at her for a moment before a smile broke out over her face.

Nancy calmly speared a piece of chicken from her salad, popped it in her mouth.

"So, spill the details. What happened?" Bess said.

"We had a long talk while we were there. I knew he'd broken things off with Callie, but I hadn't told him about breaking up with Ned. We were trying to have the talk the first night, but Joe interrupted us just as Frank was about to kiss me." Nancy paused to take another bite of salad.

"It's about time," Bess muttered.

"So… you're dating?" George asked.

"Long distance," Nancy said with a nod.

"Sooo," Bess said with a sly smile," On a scale from one to ten…"

"Definitely a ten," Nancy replied with a warm smile, thinking of their goodbye kiss and the feeling of his arms around her.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask," Bess said with a giggle.

"Oh yes, we do," George teased. She turned to Nancy. "So when are you going to see him again?"

"Three weeks," Nancy answered. "We're going to meet in Chicago for the weekend."

Bess grinned. "Now, George," she said as she turned to her cousin, "there must be some cute counselors at this camp…"

---- ---- ----


	2. Chapter 2

Connections (Part Two)

By: DesertVixen ()

-- -- --

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Follows "Bringing Down the Barriers" by about 2-3 weeks. As noted in that story, 3 years have passed since the SuperMystery timeframe. There is a deliberate reference to another fairly popular YA series in the story, for fun.

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY: Sorry it's been so long since I updated this. I got a little writer's block, and that pesky reality thing keeps getting in the way.

DISCLAIMER: I obviously do not own the characters, because if I did, we'd have ditched Ned a long time ago. My books all say Archway or Grosset and Dunlap, and of course we can't forget the Stratemeyer Syndicate. I'm just borrowing them for awhile to have fun.

-- -- --

"Something smells good," Nancy commented as she walked into the kitchen. She'd changed from her work outfit into t-shirt and shorts. "What can I help with?"

Hannah Gruen, the Drews' long-time housekeeper, gestured to the oven. "You could pull the garlic bread out for me. How was your day?"

"Not too bad. I had lunch with Bess and George, let them in on the news about Frank." Nancy pulled the pan from the oven and set it on top of the stove. "Then I spent the afternoon running a bunch of courier errands for Dad."

"Speaking of Frank," Hannah said as she stirred the spaghetti sauce, "he called earlier. He has to work this evening, so if he calls it will be late."

"Thanks." Nancy stepped over by the sink, and started putting together a salad from the ingredients Hannah had set out. She wasn't the only one busy working for their father over the summer. More often than not, she and Frank found time to have at least a short phone conversation, but it was no substitute for actually seeing each other. A weekend in Chicago was starting to sound very nice.

"Nancy?" Hannah asked after a few minutes of them working in comfortable silence.

"Yes?"

"Your father asked me to cook dinner on Sunday with a guest in mind." She paused, then turned to look at Nancy. "Helena Radecki?"

"He brought her on the weekend trip," Nancy confirmed. "I liked her. I think you will, too."

Hannah nodded. "I was thinking about doing a roast chicken, all the usual stuff that goes along with that. Nothing too fancy."

"That sounds good," Nancy agreed. "Any chance of strawberry shortcake for dessert?"

"I think that could be arranged," Hannah said with a laugh.

Nancy was quiet for another moment as she opened the refrigerator, pulled out salad dressing bottles. She hated to just blurt it out, but she'd been trying to find a good way to ask the question, and not getting anywhere.

"Would you keep working for Dad?"

Hannah stopped where she was, potholders in hand. "What do you mean?"

"If Dad remarried, would you keep working for him?"

"Do you think he's that serious?" Hannah inquired.

"He seems pretty serious."

"It would all depend, I guess. She would have to want a housekeeper." Hannah picked up the pot full of cooked spaghetti, and walked to the sink to pour it into the waiting colander. "She would have to be someone I wanted to work for."

Nancy tried to imagine the house without Hannah's presence. The picture just would not come into focus. Sometimes it seemed as if she had always been there, in Nancy's memories. Even now that Nancy was not home quite as much, she still took comfort in the fact that Hannah was there, warm and welcoming.

Sunday would be interesting.

-- -- --

Hannah watched fondly as Nancy carried the plates, flatware, and napkins to the table. It was hard to believe that eighteen years had gone by since she had been hired by a young widower with a beautiful little blonde daughter. Carson had insisted that Nancy not be spoiled by having a housekeeper, and so from the time Nancy had been old enough to help, setting the table had been her nightly task. Even now, home from college, it was one chore that Nancy still performed.

Eighteen years of cooking in this kitchen and taking care of this house – she had not realized when she took the job that it was likely the last one she would ever hold. She had, quite simply, fallen in love with "her" family. Carson Drew had ensured that money was not much of a consideration for his housekeeper – a generous salary, as well as assistance with investing. If she stopped working for Carson, she had every intention of taking her retirement. She could afford to not work, to indulge in the comfortable things, to have a comfortable apartment here in River Heights with a nice balcony for gardening.

When Nancy had left home to go to school, she had briefly considered leaving as well. There was no doubt, however, that the house needed someone to take care of it, especially with Carson Drew's heavy workload. More than that, Carson needed someone to make sure he took care of himself. There was no point in changing a routine that had worked so well, for so long. She would have missed the job and the things that came with it more than she wanted her days to be free.

This was a first, however – the first time that Carson had brought home a woman about whom he was entertaining serious thoughts. Hannah knew he had relationships, but he kept them on neutral ground, away from home. She had always assumed that it was to keep them from affecting Nancy. He had, however, taken this woman on what could be considered a family trip, and now he was bringing her home for dinner. Hannah couldn't help feeling like her work – the food, the house, everything – was on display to be judged. Nancy had assured her that Helena was quite nice, but Hannah would be able to better relax when she had seen for herself.

Carson had asked for her to not make anything too fancy, and so she had decided on roast chicken – one of her best recipes and one of his favorites. There was the chicken, mashed potatoes with creamy chicken gravy on the side, a salad, a side dish of sweet summer corn, and as she had promised Nancy, strawberry shortcake for dessert with homemade whipped cream.

She glanced at the clock. Time to get dinner on the table, and then they would see how things went.

"It's a lovely house," Helena commented as they walked downstairs from looking at the mostly-unused third floor. The three-story brick Colonial was large and graceful without being overpowering, and the interior was comfortably elegant without feeling like a model on display. His grandparents had owned it originally, although there were only a few furnishings left from when he had inherited it from them. It had been the major reason why, after Cecily's death, he had made the decision to move back to River Heights. He had needed the peace and quiet, the safety of River Heights for himself and Nancy, and the good memories associated with the town had helped seal the deal.

"Thank you. A friend's wife is an interior decorator, and she's helped out a time or two," Carson replied. He was intensely glad that she seemed to like the house. Her apartment was decorated in a slightly more modern style, but part of that was also due to the way it was laid out. The Colonial seemed to demand a more traditional style, both inside and out.

"And something smells very delicious," Helena said with a smile as they walked towards the dining area.

"Hannah's cooking always does," he replied.

Carson saw that Nancy had been busy when they walked into the dining area. The table was set with plates and flatware, and a vase that looked closer to a clay pot overflowed with stargazer lilies and a few pink roses. Nancy walked out of the kitchen a moment later, bearing a ceramic bowl full of mashed potatoes.

"How did you like the house?" Nancy asked Helena cheerfully.

"It's very nice," Helena replied. "Although I can only imagine how much work cleaning it is."

Nancy laughed. "Oh, yes. I don't miss spring cleaning."

"It's not as much work as one might think," Hannah remarked, "considering that we don't use all the rooms every day."

-- -- --

Helena put the first forkful of roast chicken in her mouth, and an "mmm" sound escaped her lips. The compliment to her cooking made Hannah smile, and broke the slight awkwardness around the table.

"This is wonderful, Hannah," Helena said after swallowing.

"Thank you," Hannah replied.

"Hannah's cooking is always wonderful," Carson said with a smile. "It helps inspire my exercise program, especially her chocolate pie."

The dinner conversation flowed smoothly, mostly Carson and Helena comparing stories from their respective work weeks. Helena Radecki had as strong a reputation as Carson Drew did when it came to the law. Her specialty was divorces, although she occasionally handled other family law cases as well. She had originally started practicing in the same Chicago law firm as her father and brother – founded by her father – but had chosen to break away and establish an office in River Heights. Helena did a fair amount of pro bono work, as did Carson.

Carson had been busy this week, preparing for a case starting Monday, in which he would be defending a woman accused of killing her abusive husband. Nancy knew it was weighing on his mind – the serious cases always did – and she thought Helena knew it as well, as most of her anecdotes were relatively light.

Carson leaned back in his chair, mostly listening to the female conversation around the table. Helena and Hannah seemed to be getting along well, and he didn't think their relationship would be a problem. They would still need a housekeeper, after all, and he preferred Hannah Gruen to remain in that position. Helena had her own high-powered career, her own law office, and as she had laughingly confessed, her cooking skills started at boiling water and ended with very excellent omelets. She had made them for him a few times.

Nancy and Helena also seemed to be getting along very well. Helena had mentioned their lunch to him, and the two seemed to be relating to each other as friends. As Nancy had told him up at the lake, it was a little late for him to attempt to replace her mother. She was a woman grown, almost as old as Cecily had been when they met. He supposed, in a way, Hannah had been the closest he had come to replacing Nancy's mother, if not his wife. His sister Eloise, and Laura Hardy, Anna Marvin and Kit Fayne – Nancy had not lacked for female role models, for women she could turn to for advice. None of them, however, could ever have replaced Cecily.

Carson shook his head. He had to get off this train of thought. It didn't lead anywhere he wanted to go, or anywhere he had not already been.

"How about dessert, Hannah?" He needed something to distract him, and strawberry shortcake would probably work as well as anything else.

All three of the women gave him a curious look.

"I think you're the only one who has room for dessert right now, Dad," Nancy teased. "The rest of us may have to be rolled away from the table."

-- -- --

Hannah shooed them outside so she could tackle the cleanup, and the three of them ended up sitting on the deck overlooking the backyard. Helena was admiring the comfortable landscaping – the tire swing hanging from the oak tree, the vegetable and herb patch Hannah had planted, the flower beds and rosebushes, the soft green lawn.

"We had a full swing set at one time, but someone outgrew it," Carson told her.

"It's gorgeous," she said softly. "It's not overdone, it's just…perfect for the house."

"I'm glad you like it," he replied, taking her hand in his.

The conversation wandered, since there were no plans to be kept or places to be. When Hannah stepped out on to the deck, Nancy glanced up, wondering if she was bringing dessert out already.

"You have company, Nancy," Hannah told her. "You didn't tell me Bess had cut her hair that short."

"It has to been seen to be believed," Nancy replied. "Dad, do you mind if they come on back?"

"No," Carson replied, but he had to repress a sigh. Anna Marvin was not exactly a gossip, but she did have a way of finding out more than he wanted to have her know – and Bess was very much like her. It wasn't that he wanted to keep Helena a secret, but he had been enjoying the privacy they were able to have. Their work schedules were crazy, and they had a hard enough time finding time for each other without worrying about finding time for everyone else. "I haven't seen Bess and George for awhile."

Helena was a little surprised to see two girls walk out onto the deck, and Carson realized that he had failed to tell her about George. He, of course, was perfectly used to the nickname, although he had vivid memories of a dark-haired tomboy who had refused to respond at all to her given name of Georgia.

"I wanted to stop by before I left to head back out to the camp," George explained. "I won't be able to come home for a few weeks, because we're getting a new group of kids."

"So you're enjoying it, then?" Carson asked. He had written a recommendation for her when she applied for the job, and had been pleased when they had accepted her.

"Oh, yes! In fact, I'm looking at specializing in juvenile justice after graduation," George said. "Maybe as a juvenile probation officer."

"The criminal justice bug must be catching," Helena joked. "Carson is obviously a carrier."

Bess shook her head. "I'm immune, thankfully. The closest I get to criminal behavior these days is the bride who wanted to put her six bridesmaids in these horrible fuschia taffeta things."

"Were you able to talk her out of it?" Nancy asked. The bridal horror stories Bess never seemed to run out of were pretty entertaining.

"We talked her down to black dresses with fuschia sashes," Bess replied.

After a few minutes, Hannah brought out the strawberry shortcake, effectively halting conversation, other than requests to pass the whipped cream. When they had finished, George glanced at her watch.

"Bess, I really need to get going."

The cousins took their leave, with Bess promising to meet Nancy for lunch later that week. Carson watched them leave, wondering how long it would take Anna to call and invite him to bring Helena over. When they had gone, Helena stood.

"I should probably get going as well. I know you have the case starting tomorrow," she said. "Dinner was wonderful, Hannah."

"Thank you. It was nice to meet you," Hannah replied.

"Have fun," Nancy called out. She had been sitting by one of the flower beds, pulling out a few stray weeds that had dared to intrude.

"Walk me out?" Helena asked Carson.

"Of course," he replied.

-- -- --


	3. Chapter 3

Connections (Part Three)

By: DesertVixen ()

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Follows "Bringing Down the Barriers" by about 2-3 weeks. As noted in that story, 3 years have passed since the SuperMystery timeframe.

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY: Sorry it's been so long since I updated this. I got a little writer's block, and that pesky reality thing keeps getting in the way.

FURTHER APOLOGY: I know it's really been a long time, I'll try to keep the next wait down. This is the end of THIS story, and I know you've been waiting a long time.

DISCLAIMER: I obviously do not own the characters, because if I did, we'd have ditched Ned a long time ago. My books all say Archway or Grosset and Dunlap, and of course we can't forget the Stratemeyer Syndicate. I'm just borrowing them for awhile to have fun.

-- -- --

It had been a long time since she had done this, Nancy reflected as she pulled into the parking lot. She had been in high school the last time. Today, she had finished up her assignments fairly early, and had decided that going to watch her father give closing arguments would be interesting. Nancy enjoyed hearing about cases, but she had rarely watched the cases end in the courtroom. It had always been more interesting to hear about what went into getting the cases into court.

Part of it was Carson's preference for keeping his personal and professional lives separate. Of course, with Nancy's passion for detection, that had not always been possible. She had lost track of the number of times her father's name and reputation had opened a door for her, or the number of cases she had worked for someone who knew him, or someone who had turned to him for help. Part of it was simply that Nancy's interest had always been in finding the evidence and unraveling the strands of a situation, not in presenting the situation to outside parties.

Today she had the time, and she told herself it was something else to think about. If she was going to be a lawyer, she would find herself arguing in court. Not all cases went to trial, of course, but when they did she would have to know how to handle it.

She parked and made her way inside the courthouse. Quietly, she slipped into a back row of the courtroom, somewhat surprised to see Helena already sitting there. Carson Drew was seated at the defense table, projecting a calm, unruffled demeanor, talking quietly with his client.

"Afternoon," Helena said softly. "I had some extra time on my calendar."

Nancy nodded in reply. Before she could say anything, the bailiff called the court to order.

The prosecutor's summation was bitingly precise. The case focused on a battered wife who had killed her abusive husband in self-defense. Lynne Delacey had emptied a full clip from Robert Delacey's Ruger 45 and then calmly called the police. Her face had been bruised, her clothing disheveled, and she had never before called the police to report being abused.

It was the sort of case Carson Drew excelled at. It was part of his formidable legal reputation that he had never defended a person he believed to be guilty, and he rarely lost. Some of his colleagues might accuse him of having watched Perry Mason a few times too many, but there was no denying his skill at what he did.

His practice was mostly criminal, although he handled some other issues as well for clients, usually in association with another lawyer. Nancy had always been fascinated by her father's career choice, and she knew it had influenced her interest in detection. Both of them wanted to help people, to find the truth, and to get other people to see that truth.

When her father rose and began to speak, Nancy could see the jury responding to his calmly persuasive closing speech. When he had finished, Nancy was surprised to realize he had been speaking for almost an hour. She had been so wrapped up in what he had been saying, she hadn't realized how much time was passing.

The prosecutor, of course, had the final say in front of the jury, to make an attempt to reinforce their case and poke holes in that of the defense. Again, he was bitingly precise, stressing the facts and evidence, and Nancy wondered which style would have more of an effect on the jury. There was, after all, no doubt that Lynne Delacey had killed her husband Robert. She had even confessed to it. The question was whether or not they would believe that she had done so in order to not lose her own life, if they would believe that she had been abused and terrified, backed into a corner from which the only escape had involved the victim's own handgun.

Carson was surprised to see the two of them sitting in the back row. Nancy had not come to court to watch a case she hadn't been involved in for several years. Helena, as far as he knew, had never sat in a courtroom just to watch him. She was aware of his legal reputation, of course, but she was more involved in issues related to family law.

The judge gave the jury their final instructions, the jurors were escorted from the courtroom by a bailiff, and the rest of the courtroom was dismissed. Carson joined them in the back row.

"What did you think?" He asked after they exchanged greetings.

"They seemed thoughtful when they left," Helena replied.

Nancy nodded. "You were pretty good," she said with a smile.

"I just hope they thought so." He took hold of Helena's hand. "What would you two say to a late lunch or early dinner?"

Nancy grinned. Her father had a habit of waiting out deliberating juries at a small Chinese restaurant near the courthouse. The owner was one of his former clients, and ensured that Carson always had a table waiting. "Chinese food?"

"Of course."

Helena nodded. "Shall we walk over?"

-- -- --

The proprietor seated the three of them at a comfortable booth under one of the large windows, the late-afternoon sun streaming in. When Nancy was still a little girl, Carson had defended the current owner's brother when the young man had been charged with taking part in a string of robberies. In the last robbery, a storeowner had been killed. Carson had won an acquittal for Jason Chin, and James Chin had made it his business to ensure that any time Carson chose to eat at the Fortune Inn, the lawyer had the best meal in the house. It had become a tradition of his that he waited out at least the first day of a deliberating jury there.

They ordered, and settled in to wait for the appetizers. They appeared so fast that Carson suspected James Chin had a spy in the courthouse. Rather than talk about the case, he asked Helena how her day had gone.

"As you can see, I finished up early. It's been a slow week, with no time in court." She picked up an egg roll, setting it on her plate. "We can't all have glamorous lives like you."

Nancy laughed. "I wouldn't say working in his law office is all glamour."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure Eleanor could find you something even less glamorous than courier duty."

Nancy gave a mock shudder. "Thanks, Dad. I'll pass."

They had finished a leisurely dinner, and were debating the merits of dessert when Carson's cell phone buzzed on the table. Nancy saw his relaxed demeanor evaporate as he answered. The conversation was brief, and when he ended the call, Carson signaled the waiter to bring the check.

"They're coming back," he told Nancy and Helena.

Nancy glanced at her watch. It was just shy of nine. "Under five hours?"

"Well, at least you know it's not a hung jury," Helena said quietly. She was not used to dealing with juries, since they were not a factor in family law cases. Family law judges could be just as problematic, but at least then she only had to worry about one person, not twelve.

"There is that," he said dryly as he signed the credit card receipt. "Are you two going to come for the verdict?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Nancy assured him.

-- -- --

Carson sat next to his client, speaking calmly as they waited. Nancy noted how Lynne drew on his calm reassurances, breathing deep and looking as composed as possible. She could also see how Lynne's hands were clasped in her lap, so tightly that her knuckles were going white.

The bailiff went through the routine of bringing in the jury, delivering the verdict to the judge, and handing it back to the foreman of the jury. After what seemed like a long time to Nancy, and must have seemed like an eternity to Lynne Delacey, the foreman declared the verdict to be not guilty on all charges. There wasn't a large uproar, although the members of Lynne's family that were present erupted into a cheer. Behind the prosecution's table, an older woman – the victim's mother, Nancy assumed – sat stone-faced. Lynne was hugging Carson, and then her family tried to envelope her in a group hug over the rail separating the spectators from the participants.

"What does the victory celebration entail?" Helena asked as they walked outside. Carson paused by his car so he could make sure Nancy made it to where the Mustang was parked without any problems.

"Drinks usually, with or without the client. Lynne plans on celebrating by getting a good night's sleep, or so she told me." He smiled at Helena as he watched Nancy get into her car and wave at him. He knew Lynne had not been sleeping well, despite being out on bail. She'd known that she had done the only thing she could, but waiting to find out what price she would pay had been nerve-wracking.

"That sounds like an excellent plan to me," she suggested slyly, moving in to give him a long kiss.

"Why don't we start with a drink first?" Carson slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Where are you parked?"

-- -- --

Nancy could see in her side mirror as Helena leaned in to give her father a kiss, a long one. He didn't seem to mind the move, and as she watched them turn away, walk down the aisle of vehicles, Nancy wondered what the odds were that her father wouldn't make it home tonight.

She liked Helena as a person, and liked even more that she made Carson happy. He relaxed around her, and Nancy didn't feel like it was an intrusion when Helena was around the two of them. It was past time for him to have happiness of that sort again.

Nancy drove the short distance towards home, and was almost there when her cell phone chirped, indicating an incoming text message. She picked it up, saw it was from Frank, and smiled when she read the two-word message – 'one week'.

'Can't wait', she replied as soon as she had pulled into the driveway. She would try giving him a call, see what was going on in Bayport, and see what he wanted to do in Chicago.

That thought made her pretty happy.


End file.
